School was in spring recess, so that Monday was a sleep-in day. Charlie Simpson awoke late in the morning aware of two things. First, he'd soaked the front of his boxers. Second, he had a sharp cramp in his lower back, no doubt the result of humping the bed during his recent wet dream. Grimacing in pain, he rolled out of bed on to his feet. After rubbing the spot and gently maneuvering, the cramp subsided to an ache in his left lower back and upper butt.
He eased the waist band of his shorts over the tip of his rock hard erection, and pushed them down to his thighs where they dropped to the floor. He kicked them under the bed, lest his mom find them before they dried.
Charlie was a late bloomer. Only last year he'd stood 5'8", a skinny, nerdish boy, bespeckled, with braces, and very self-conscious of his lowly rank in the school social pecking order. But over the last year, a growth spurt turned the now 18yr old into a 5'11" 165 pound young man, with barely an ounce of fat. The latter was more attributable to the wonders of youth, rather than any extensive exercise.
He hobbled toward the shower, catching his reflection in the bathroom mirror in route. Pausing momentarily, he admired his physique. Gone were the braces. Everyday glasses had given way to contacts. He'd let his brown hair grow to medium length at his mom's suggestion. His chest and abs, both hairless, gave way to an impressive 8 inch penis, "Little Chuck," now jutting up from brown pubic tufts. It too had gained size over the past year which, unlike the rest of his physique, was probably due to daily workouts ... courtesy of Charlie's right hand, fantasy, and porn. In fact, he would be taking care of it presently, if not for concern of bringing on another lumbar spasm.
The steaming hot shower relaxed his back somewhat, as well as easing his morning wood, to the point that he was able to carefully towel off, take a leak, and pull on some clothes before heading downstairs.
Descending the stairs proved more painful though, and as he groaned one faltering step at a time. His mom appeared at the bottom with a worried expression.
Cindy and Dan Simpson were doting parents. Charles was their only child. They worried and rooted for their child as most parents do. He was a good kid, smart, caring. His shyness was a real concern though, especially with girls. Almost as an excuse to avoid social activities, he buried himself in schoolwork, sometimes far too deeply in Cindy's opinion. But he was driven to become an engineer, and his recent acceptance to Georgia Tech was cause for a huge family celebration.
"Charles, what's the matter?" Cindy asked
"Eh, nothing, mom. I ... maybe I slept wrong. I just got this catch in my back," Charlie responded, rubbing the area.
"Let me see," she demanded as he completed the last stair step. After a brief exam, she added, "I'm setting you up an appointment with Diane."
Diane Dupont was Cindy's longtime massage therapist. She received her certification shortly after arriving in the states from Australia some 20 years ago, and she was very good at what she did. Her husband had died in a terrible automobile accident, a few years before. In the aftermath, Diane seemed to have an absence of interest in kindling new relationships. Instead, she threw herself entirely into her business. What a shame, Cindy thought, because Diane was such a lovely lady.
As Cindy dialed her cell, Charlie interjected, Mom ... mom ... no! I'll be fine. I'm good. Reall ...." His pleading trailed off as Cindy shushed him, and Diane picked up.
"Diane? Hey, this is Cindy Simpson. Listen, I have a favor to ask. My son woke this morning with a terrible backache, and I was wondering if you might have an opening in your schedule for him." There was a pause. "Oh ... you're slammed huh? That's too bad...."
Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. He wanted nothing to do with an experience that screamed embarrassment. He hobbled toward the kitchen when he heard his mom say, "Oh Diane! Would you? I would sooo appreciate it. You have my card, put on $140. Thank you sooo much! I'll get him there at 6. Thanks again."
Then she turned to Charlie with very satisfied smile and said, "You're set for 6 o'clock this evening. She usually sees her last appointment at 5, but she said she'd stay late, and add you at the end. And that's that," she rubbed her hands together in success. "Now let's see what we can get you for breakfast."
Charlie spent the rest of the day in relative trepidation, and as immobile as possible.
...
"Damn!" Her 5 o'clock appointment cancelled. Diane cursed to herself as Jan, her receptionist, passed her the scheduling note. Normally, Jan would have called the next appointment in early, but as Diane had failed to mention the add-on, she thought the 5 o'clock appointment was Diane's last of the day. "Okay, Jan thanks. Why don't you take off. I'll lock up." Her young receptionist thanked her, then skipped out the door. Diane considered calling Cindy to bump her son's appointment up. Then she changed her mind, locked the door, and turned off the open sign.
Dupont Massage and Day Spa was a converted two bedroom cottage in Midtown. The original den now comprised the spa's entry area. There were shelves and tables loaded with an array of spa products for sale, along with a registration desk normally attended by her receptionist. The old dining area now served as a wine and tea room where clients received complementary drinks to relax before or after treatments. A large walk-in shower was available for clients before or after treatments, though it was rarely used.
It had been a long day, and Diane decided to enjoy a glass of wine before Cindy and her son arrived. She'd leave the open bottle for Cindy to enjoy during her son's massage.
The wine, peace, and quiet were relaxing. Her day had been booked solid. She'd had only 10mins to catch a late lunch. All were longtime clients, all straight females. No newbies. No unknowns. No men. So that morning her black yoga pants, sports bra, and slides seemed like perfectly fine attire. Diane worked to stay in shape. She enjoyed highlighting her body as a general fitness message to clients. On days where the clientele composition was different though, especially men, she preferred working in loose fitting scrubs, which though frumpy, tended to minimize any wrong messaging or "erection embarrassment" on "the flip".
Now it occurred she'd have a teenage boy on her table. How old was he? 16? 17? She realized she hadn't asked. She thought about changing her outfit. Not that this one was revealing per se. The sports bra was cupped, and barely showed cleavage, even given the nice set of bouncy D-cup naturals it contained. Her lycra tights were high-rise, calf-length, booty scrunchers. They hugged her figure well, nestling their midseam nicely between her cheeks. They were cute, but revealed any panty lines, which is why she went pantyless when donning them. She did keep several sets of scrubs in the bath closet which she could change in to, but no panties. "So that wouldn't be great either," she thought. "Besides," she realized, she could invite Cindy to the room to chit-chat during her son's session. "That was the ticket! Bring Cindy back. No worries then." She poured herself a second glass, and studied her business inventory printout.
...
Charlie arrived just before 6 o'clock. The spa appeared closed. He knocked softly. No answer. He saw the doorbell, rang it once, and waited about 30 seconds before happily heading back to his car. But the door opened behind him.
"Charles?" A soft accented voice asked.
"Uhm, yeah," Charlie said as he returned to the door. Suddenly very aware of the ravishing form in the doorway. She was about 5'5", blonde, blue-eyed, with a beautiful face, in a skin-tight black two-piece, with a figure that could cause climate change on its own. "Oh shit" Charlie thought to himself.
"Pardon?" Came the soft Australian response.
Apparently the "oh shit" had been utterance as well as thought. "Ugh .... it's Charlie.. uhm .... ma'am," Charlie recovered, as he extended a hand.
Diane shook his hand, then with a puzzled look asked, "Where's Ceendy?"
Charlie was confused "Uhm, she didn't come. Was she supposed to?"
"Well Chaahlie, Yeah, I'm sorry, but yes she was. She was supposed ... She needed to sign your treatment forms. You're not 18 are you?"
"Uhm.. yes ma'am, I am. I'm 18."
"Oh ... well ... I ... I guess we're okay then. Come in. Have a seat. I need you to fill these out."
Diane sat at the table opposite him. With glass of wine in hand, she studied Charlie. She noticed was how stiffly he'd taken his seat, complete with a grimace. It was obviously he was hurting. She also noticed, he was trembling as he filled out the forms
-- Area of pain? - Left lower back
-- Any medical issues? - no
-- Medications? - no
-- Previous massage experiences? - none
-- LMP?
"Uhm, what's this one?" he looked
She smiled at him as he passed the form across the table to her. "He seemed like a very nice boy" she thought. "Well mannered, clean cut ..."
